


Pietro and Peter

by clokkerfoot



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Fluff, M/M, Pietro and Peter are attracted to each other, Reality Jumping, Self-cest, this is such a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clokkerfoot/pseuds/clokkerfoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Maximoff is accidentally reality jumped from the X-Men universe to the Avengers universe. He'd be fine with this, except... there's already a Pietro Maximoff in that universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pietro and Peter

Peter really, really didn't know what was going on.

One minute, he'd been very comfortably eating a granola bar, listening to Charles and Hank argue about some insane plan they had for the school. Then, he felt the peculiarly nauseating sensation of being squashed, and he found himself stood in the middle of a dimly lit room.

He was quite used to moving quickly from place to place, but usually he knew where he was, and he had intended to be there.

Also, there weren't usually a group of men staring at him. Gormlessly.

His eyes were drawn to a quiet man stood the corner, who was the only one looking at him normally. He was attractive - not that the other men in the room weren't attractive, because _God_ , they were one hell of a gene pool compilation - and his lidded eyes were fixed on Peter's. Peter had to force his gaze away.

A quick glance around the room confirmed that there were no clear exits. Peter felt a little queasy from the squashy-transfer and the idea of running only made his stomach clench in protest, so he raised his hand in greeting to the strange men, and said, as confidently as he could, "Hello."

One of them, a man dressed in an oddly tight spandex-ey uniform that was the pattern of the American flag, raised his hand and waved.

"I'm Peter." He continued, as he pulled himself up into a more formal position and stuck out his hand. He'd been slouched over and clutching at his stomach, and hadn't realised. Now he knew how Erik felt in the Pentagon. "Nice to meet you all, whoever you are."

The star-spangled man suddenly shook his head as if he remembered himself, then leapt forward and shook Peter's hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Steve Rogers."

"Oh, are we doing last names?" Peter smiled in spite of the awkward silence, "I'm Peter Maximoff."

The man stood in the corner of the room, dressed in a black hooded top with arrows up the sleeves made a strangled noise, then stepped forward. He shook Peter's hand. When their eyes met, Peter swore he recognised the glint in the other man's eyes.

"I'm Pietro." He had a thick Romanian accent, and Peter found it oddly hypnotic and endearing.

Peter's smile grew into a grin, "My mom wanted to call me Pietro, but she didn't want me to get bullied for having such a weird name. Not that your name is weird." He rushed over his words, "It's definitely cooler than mine."

"I'm Pietro _Maximoff_." Pietro said. Peter dropped his hand and took a step back. He instantly regretted it, as his head spun violently and he found himself grabbing onto Pietro, at the hard muscle of his upper arm.

"I'll call a medic." An unidentified voice at the back of the room said quietly.

"No need." Pietro replied as he righted Peter. "He just needs to sit down."

"I need _answers_." Peter heard himself snarl as he fought to remain standing through the nausea and vertigo. His eyes weren't focusing on anything, and there were bright lights appearing in his vision. He heard himself swear as his knees gave out from under him, and he tumbled to the floor.

His last thought before he slipped into a dizzying unconsciousness was that he had no idea what the hell was going on.

-

"Is he going to wake up soon?"

"I don't know."

"Can you find out?"

"He'll wake up eventually. There's no way he can sleep for more than a day."

"He _did_ cross a bridge between two realities yesterday."

"Oh, piss off, Bruce. You're not involved in this conversation."

"I'm involved in this _incident_ -"

"Guys, shut up. He's waking up."

Peter hadn't wanted to stir, but when he felt reality slamming back into his head at full force he instinctively stretched his wrists and let his eyes drift open.

He was lying on his back on an unfamiliar bed. There were strange faces hovering above him, two of them he vaguely recognised, and the room was thick with heat.

"Peter?"

That voice. He recognised that voice. Pietro. It all came back to him in a rush, and he fled to the corner of the room, away from the man who shared his name.

Or, he tried to.

Halfway to the corner, Pietro caught him and held him tightly in his arms.

Okay. He wasn't expecting that.

Usually, people didn't tend to catch him when he was running at speeds faster than the human eye could comprehend. And usually he could escape from a person's grip, just by moving quick enough. But Pietro just wouldn't let go.

He returned to normal speed and sagged glumly in Pietro's grip.

"I wasn't expecting that." Peter muttered quietly.

"Me neither." Pietro said, his voice just behind Peter's ear. His hot breath blew across the sensitive skin on the back of his neck and Peter shivered. Pietro released his hold on Peter, and took a step away from him.

Peter steadied himself, frowned, and looked at the three other men in the room. One of them was the star-spangled man (Steve, he recalled), a short man in a tight black t-shirt, and a timid-looking man dressed in purple. They were all stood in the corner behind the bed Peter had been lying on.

They looked frightened.

"Why are you all staring at me?" Peter snapped. He'd had plenty of shrinks stare at him when he was a kid, and he was sick of it.

"High metabolism, eh?" The man in purple said. He stepped out in front of the bed and held out his hand. Peter shook it reluctantly, "I'm Bruce Banner. I'm the reason you're here."

"Half the reason." The man in black piped up. He, too, came forward and shook Peter's hand, "Tony Stark. I designed the machine that brought you here. Bruce just worked out all the fancy biomedical details."

"You're telling me this was intentional?"

"Accidental." Tony and Bruce said at the same time. They glanced at each other, then back at Peter.

"We weren't exactly intending to bring you here." Tony ran his hand through his hair, "We were hoping for someone less..."

"Gifted." Bruce finished for him.

Peter snorted, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Pietro walked round and stood in front of Peter, flanked by Bruce and Tony. Peter would've felt threatened if the two flanking men weren't considerably shorter than he was.

"I am Pietro Maximoff. I am you from another reality." Pietro was moving his hands animatedly as he spoke, wringing his hands and pulling at his fingers until the knuckles popped. "And, well... we accidentally brought you to our reality."

Peter stared at Pietro. Then stared some more. Last he checked, his hair was silver, and his eyes grey. This man had white hair and blue eyes. Pietro also happened to be several inches taller than him, and sporting considerably larger muscles.

He was also undeniably attractive. Peter _knew_ he wasn't nearly as attractive as Pietro.

"You definitely aren't me. We look nothing alike."

"I believe there are some differences in DNA in different realities. Different genetics getting through the net, so to speak." Bruce blushed as he spoke. "We don't really understand it. In fact, we'd hardly considered that reality jumping was a possibility until yesterday. The Internet couldn't give us any answers. Even JARVIS is stumped."

Peter frowned. Bruce and Tony had said a lot of words that he didn't recognise, and he wasn't sure why. "Internet? What's an Internet?"

"Jeez, that reality jump really confused you, huh?" Tony laughed. Bruce laughed softly along with him, but when Peter continued to frown, their laughter drained away. "You really don't know what the Internet is?"

Peter shook his head.

"When were you born, Peter?" Pietro said, quietly. He was running his thumb along his chin and chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip.

"1965." Peter answered.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

Tony swore and turned his back on Peter. He threw his hands into the air as he walked over to the bed and sat on it. "You're just a kid. Seventeen. _Seventeen_!"

"You're making me feel old, kid." Pietro said glumly.

Peter scowled at him. "We're the same person, apparently. You don't get to call me 'kid'." He took a step back, "How old are _you_? And how did you catch me earlier?" He pointed at Bruce, "And how did you know about my high metabolism?"

"I turned fifty last year." Pietro answered as he filled the gap between himself and Peter. Peter shrank back under his height and held his gaze. Pietro looked absolutely beautiful, silhouetted by the light above him. Peter knew it was wrong, but he really didn't believe that he and Pietro were the same person. Why couldn't he appreciate his looks? "And Bruce knew about your high metabolism because I have it too."

Peter was used to hyperspeed. He really, _really_ was. But he'd never had someone grip his arm and initiate the hyperspeed themselves.

-

It was quite a pleasant surprise, to be carried along at such a high velocity without having to do anything.

He and Pietro glided through the unidentifiable rooms of the building they were in, until they were on a roof, the open blue sky above them. Returning to normal speed was a blessing on his stomach.

Peter had seen so many things in the building he wanted to investigate, but the sight of the scene below them captured his attention.

His city was small, but advanced. But it was nothing - _nothing_ \- compared to the swell of concrete and metal and glass that spread across the ground beneath the building they were on. Even from this immense height, Peter could hear sirens and car horns and the murmur of an entire city of voices, all screaming out at once.

"Welcome to 2015." Pietro said quietly. His hand was still around Peter's forearm, and Peter wasn't sure he wanted him to remove it. He was sure that if he moved from this spot, he would tumble off the edge of the building, into the abyss of the city below. "This is New York."

"Thirty years." Peter murmured as he tried to memorise the landscape. "I missed thirty years." He laughed, "Oh, my sister is probably all grown up."

"Your sister?" Pietro asked, "Wanda?"

"Yes. How did you-" He stopped himself. Of course _this_ Pietro had a sister, too. "She's a cute little thing, isn't she?"

"Yes, yes she is. You can meet her, later. She's working with Vision at the moment." Pietro smiled, "Are you the older sibling, too?"

Peter laughed, "Of course I am."

"By how much?"

"About nine years."

That made Pietro falter. The smile vanished from his face and the excited spark in his eyes dimmed. His hand slid off Peter's arm and fell to his side. "Nine years?"

"Yeah. Same dad and everything, which is good, I suppose."

"You're not twins?"

"Christ, no." Peter shivered, "Imagine me with a twin. God knows what powers she'd have."

Peter could practically see the cogs turning in Pietro's head. What had he said that had gotten Pietro so mixed up?

"Wanda is my twin in this reality." Pietro said quietly, "I couldn't imagine not having her by my side."

"Don't be so dramatic." Peter laughed, "Wanda is still by my side in my reality. She's just more interested in colouring books than, well, whatever your Wanda is interested in."

Pietro had been gazing off into the distance, but he suddenly snapped his head up to glare at Peter, "What powers does she have?"

"Powers?"

"Your speed. The heightened metabolism. What does she have?"

"We call them mutations in my reality."

"Either way, it's the same end result for you and I. What does she have?"

"Nothing. She's just a little girl!" Pietro laughed nervously, "Most mutations don't manifest until we're teenagers, anyway. If she does have a mutation, we won't know for a few years yet."

"You're not the only... _mutants_?" Pietro seems to struggle with the word.

"Heavens, no. There's thousands of us. I just started working at Cha- at my friend's school for mutants." He didn't really want to give any more away about his reality. If there weren't mutants in this world... he'd seen enough movies to know that ignorance could sometimes be bliss. "Why, does Wanda have powers in this reality?"

"Yes."

"Oh, cool! What powers?"

"She can alter reality. Telekinesis, if you will. Power manipulation."

"Sweet." He suddenly had a thought. "Can she manipulate metal?"

Pietro shrugged, "I suppose she could if she wanted to. She can manipulate most things, if she puts her mind to it. Metal included."

"Erik wouldn't be happy about that." Peter murmured as he resumed gazing out over the city. He'd been staring at Pietro for some time, examining every feature of his face, the way his expression changed with his thoughts, and he'd only just realised how vain he must seem.

"Erik?"

"A friend of mine."

"Ah."

Even as the bustle of this excitingly modern city screamed below them, Peter missed his home. He missed his mom, Wanda, even Charles. He missed it all.

"I want to go home." He heard himself say.

In his peripheral, he saw Pietro turn to look at him. "I understand that."

"I don't want to be here. It's a weird place."

"I understand that, too." Pietro lowered himself to the floor and kicked his legs over the edge. He gestured for Peter to sit beside him. When Peter had settled, feet dangling in the open air, Pietro began to speak.

"My sister and I weren't born with powers like you were. We volunteered for an experimental program where our DNA was altered. That's where we got our powers." He inhaled deeply and kicked his feet back and forth a few times, "Our adoptive parents were killed when we were younger. I don't even know what happened to our real parents. That's why we volunteered for the program. We didn't have anything left."

"I'm adopted, too." Peter had the urge to rest his hand on Pietro's thigh. To comfort him.

"Makes sense, I suppose." Pietro laughed, "There should be at least a few similarities between us."

Peter sighed, "We're totally different, Pietro. We're hardly the same person, if we look so different. Act so different." He raised his head and saw that Pietro was staring at him, his lips parted slightly. His lips curved up into a timid smile when he Peter's eyes flicked briefly down to look at them. Peter swallowed, " _So_ different."

Before Peter even knew what he was doing, he had leant forward and cupped Pietro's jaw in his palm, then pressed a gentle kiss to his inviting lips.

Peter knew he was gay. He'd known for years, had never even tried to hide it. But he'd never wanted to kiss _himself_ before. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, and Peter felt a hesitant hand rest on his shoulder. Then Pietro pulled away sharply and wiped his lips, guilt and some other indescribable emotion written across his face.

"We can't." Pietro said as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. He shook his head from side to side, "We _can't_."

Peter shifted onto his knees and sat back on his heels. The city lay below him, ever-present, silently judging him for his desires. A harsh breeze rushed past him, and as he rocked slightly on his heels, he felt himself tipping over. Before he even had time to panic and grab something, Pietro had rushed for him and pulled him to the door they had come through to get on to the roof.

To an outsider, they had moved in an instant. For Peter, every microsecond Pietro held him in a tight grip passed like an hour, and he never wanted those hours to end.

They stopped next to the doorway, both of them breathing heavily. Pietro, from the sudden exertion. Peter, from the proximity and the rush of almost falling. Pietro was only a few inches taller than Peter, but it felt like was towering over him, their bodies pressed together as the violent wind battered the building.

Peter's hair fell across his eyes, and after he reached up to swipe it aside, his hand was captured by Pietro's. Their joined hands dangled between them, a promise for potential.

"We can't. Peter, we _can't_." Pietro laughed dryly, "Even if we weren't the same person... I'm almost thirty years older than you. You're not even legal in this country."

"I never said anything about sex." Peter sighed, "I'm not even interested in that. You fascinate me."

"Even so..."

"I don't want anything. You're just..." Peter squeezed Pietro's hand, "I want to get to know you."

"We don't need to be involved for you to get to know me."

"I don't want to be involved to get to know you."

Pietro frowned, "That doesn't make sense."

"Neither do you."

They stared at each other for a moment, then Pietro raised Peter's hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Peter couldn't stop his cheeks from flushing with heat.

Pietro sighed, “This is a crazy idea.”

“I’m feeling a bit crazy today,” Peter grinned and tilted his head to the side, “Be crazy with me.”

Pietro pursed his lips, then nodded, “Oh, go on.”

Peter reached up and kissed Pietro again. Pietro slid his arm around Peter’s torso, squeezing him tightly, and Peter blushed even more, if that was possible. It was weird that he was attracted to himself. Very weird.

But he kinda knew that it would be alright, in the end.

After all, they were the most compatible people on the planet.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wrote this. Still, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://clokkerfoot.tumblr.com/).


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